A string of fire on the metal feet,
Dash by the steed with haste to beat.
On a lonely field, barren and flat,
But up the face of a dragon wrath.
Putrid breath that wind below,
Delivered death from fierce and glow.
It spread the soil to sand and glass,
Along to known that come to mass.
Narrow knight, valiant and bold,
No song or title shall keep to hold.
The end is nigh behind the red,
As all good souls will find the end